


A Most Delightful Contraption

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Almost Human
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Epistolary, F/F, M/M, Science, Suffragists, Travel, Victorian Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kennex is an uptight Victorian gentleman, Stahl is a suffragist and scientist, and a man-shaped contraption says the most improper things. (Steampunk AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Most Delightful Contraption

My dearest Sandra,

I hope that this letter finds you well, and that your many adventures have only landed you in the happiest kinds of trouble. I miss you terribly, and look forward to the day when I might embrace you again, and we shall put aside our travels, for a brief while at the least, and enjoy one another’s company as we have, with great delight, so many times before.

My own travels are going according to plan. The handouts on the right of women and the oppressed have been received as usual, with anger and occasionally indifference. Nevertheless, I continue. We suffragists are common enough these days that I actually receive more strange looks when I reveal that I am a woman scientist than when I suggest that I should have the rights that all thinking beings should possess. 

I must tell you, however, about the most fascinating individuals that I have met while on the train. After a stop just an hour north of London, two gentlemen sat in the row of seats across from me. At least, I assumed that they were two gentlemen; I will relate the rest to you, and you may decide for yourself if my original assessment was accurate.

One of the men tipped his hat and introduced himself as Mr. Kennex, and the other followed and introduced himself as Mr. Dorian. For reasons I did not understand at the time, Mr. Kennex appeared exasperated that Mr. Dorian had introduced himself. I then introduced myself and offered them pamphlets. Neither of them responded negatively, though Mr. Kennex seemed to be rather distracted and annoyed by some force unrelated to my politics. Mr. Dorian was quite enthusiastic, however, and claimed that he had never met a suffragist before, having only read about them in the newspapers. I was shocked by this, but then he said that he had known one scientist before and asked me to explain my work to him. 

As you might well guess, I obliged and revealed to him my work on animal imprinting, explaining my theory that phrenology has mostly got it all wrong and that animal minds – and therefore human minds – are not determined by destiny; the mind is more like a machine than we care to admit, albeit a machine that may learn processes. At this point in our discourse, Mr. Dorian gave Mr. Kennex a look that one might only describe as smug. Mr. Kennex simply rolled his eyes.

We were served lunch soon after, and Mr. Dorian did not eat anything. I found it strange but did not wish to be rude and so I did not inquire after his reasons. We three then made pleasant conversation for several hours.

It was near to the end of our journey together when I finally discovered the source of Mr. Kennex’s agitation and Mr. Dorian’s inexperience. Mr. Dorian suddenly had some sort of medical difficulty, and he started pounding on his chest. Mr. Kennex appeared quite frightened – but not for Mr. Dorian’s safety, as one might expect, but due to my presence it seemed. Mr. Kennex asked me to leave but I insisted on staying to offer assistance. Finally, Mr. Dorian told Mr. Kennex that I appeared to be a trustworthy sort, and Mr. Kennex gave a long sigh before telling me.

“He’s not a man,” Mr. Kennex said.

“I’m not like other men,” Mr. Dorian corrected. “I’m a contraption. I was built by a scientist.”

It is here that you must be wondering if perhaps I drank an absinthe or two to make the train ride go more swiftly. I can assure you that this is not the case. Indeed, Mr. Dorian proved his claim by removing his vest and then his shirt, and showing that there was an outline of a square on his chest that was quite clearly a door to his inner workings.

I tried not to gasp, out of sensitivity for his feelings, but I was quite curious. Mr. Dorian opened the door then, and I could see inside: there were not organs of blood and flesh but of wood and metal, tubes and gears and a small steam engine right where his heart would be. It was the most extraordinary sight! Mr. Dorian adjusted one of the gears and then his pain appeared to be relieved. 

“Extraordinary!” I exclaimed. For he truly was the most remarkable contraption. 

“Dorian! To take your attire off in front of a lady! And then to show her your innards!” Mr. Kennex said in great distress.

“I am not in the least offended,” I insisted, “And indeed I am quite fascinated. If my curiosity does not offend, perhaps I might know how you came to acquire such a unique companion?”

Mr. Kennex frowned but proceeded to tell me the story, a chilling tale which will, I certainly hope, have a happy ending. Mr. Kennex informed me that he was a detective who, in the course of an investigation, discovered a scientist working on a great contraption large enough to destroy the entire city! In order to help him build this monstrosity, this mad scientist built himself an assistant, predicting, quite rightly, that many human assistants would be loathe to help him complete his project. But the scientist built the contraption too well, and the assistant had sent a letter to the detective, informing him of the scientist’s dastardly plan. Mr. Kennex then brought the police to the laboratory to place the scientist under arrest, but the scientist escaped using some new form of dirigible that moved more quickly than the police’s balloons could fly. 

The police destroyed the machine designed to destroy the city – the machine itself was as large as a city block and likely only weeks away from completion. The contraption known as Mr. Dorian then presented himself and explained his situation, and since the other detectives and policemen were quite uncomfortable with its (his) presence, Mr. Kennex was forced to take custody of Mr. Dorian so that he might help locate the mad scientist before he attempts to bring disaster again. This was the purpose of their trip; Mr. Dorian knew of a country cottage in which the scientist might be hiding, and they were pursuing clues to find the location of the cottage. 

I was quite entranced by this story, but then Mr. Dorian asked to Mr. Kennex to assist him in making an additional adjustment to his mechanics that would prevent the previous problem from arising again. Mr. Kennex looked rather aghast at this, but Mr. Dorian said, “Please, John, you’ll only have to be inside of me for a minute.” You can imagine my struggle to stifle my laughter. But Mr. Kennex, with great reluctance, reached into Mr. Dorian’s chest and re-attached some device that was the source of Mr. Dorian’s discomfort. 

When he was done, Mr. Dorian gave him the brightest of smiles and said “Thank you, John.” He then closed the door to his chest and proceeded to dress himself again. I noticed that Mr. Kennex looked out the window as Mr. Dorian dressed, conspicuously avoiding looking at the contraption in a way that in my eye, suggested Shakespeare’s famed line about those who “protest too much.”

I did not wish to be rude, but we only had a half hour left until I arrived at the station, and so I asked them as many questions as I could. I know that you are laughing now, my dear Sandra, at my claim that I was attempting not to be rude in my inquisitiveness, but surely you must acknowledge that the discovery of a contraption who is a man, and yet is not, and yet is, is a matter that transcends traditional courtesy. I discovered many wonderful things, not the least of which is that Mr. Dorian appears to have the capacity not only to learn but to feel empathy, pain, anger, and fear, which are, according to the latest scientific findings, key elements in the human experience of the world. Mr. Kennex appeared to be skeptical about Mr. Dorian’s claims to humanity, but generally kept such doubts to himself; yet his reluctance to offend Mr. Dorian with these doubts suggested to me that Mr. Kennex is not so skeptical as he would like to believe.

When it was nearly time for me to depart the train, I said my good byes and offered to have them over for tea when they return to London. Mr. Kennex seemed quite surprised that such an offer would come from an unmarried woman, but Mr. Dorian corrected his assumption and said, quite rightly, that I am clearly driven by nothing baser than kindness and intellectual curiosity. 

I thanked both gentlemen then for their excellent company on the long journey to the country, a compliment which they returned. I then said to Mr. Dorian, “I think that perhaps machines are much like women; we are expected to do all the work and are given none of the rights. Perhaps the world fears the truths that would be exposed if our voices were no longer ignored.” 

Mr. Dorian smiled widely and nodded his appreciation. “It is strange indeed, that men hold such disregard not only for what they have made, but also for those who have made them.”

Mr. Kennex then let out a much put upon sigh, and Mr. Dorian assured me that this was a not a reflection on Mr. Kennex’s opinion on suffrage but simply an indication that Mr. Kennex felt quite left out. Mr. Kennex strongly objected to this characterization, but then the train arrived at the station and I had to bid farewell to my new friends.

All in all, it was one of the more fascinating journeys I have taken. I know you believe that air is the modern way to travel, but you’ll hardly call me a Luddite if I find that the train still offers delights of its own.

All my warmest wishes to you, my sweet Sandra, and great anticipation for when we meet again. I long for your embrace and equally for all your stories of the wonderful adventures you have found in your travels.

Yours, always, and with the greatest affection,  
Valerie

**Author's Note:**

> For trope bingo for the Historical AU square. Thanks to lyrstzha for the prompt of steampunk!AH.


End file.
